


To Unite In Broly Matrimony

by blackbournen



Category: Dragon Bros (Webcomic)
Genre: Bad Puns, Bromance to Romance, M/M, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbournen/pseuds/blackbournen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The broposal has been accepted, and preparation has begun for what is sure to be the most bromantic wedding of all time. Chestopher is super hype, but Squadrick is harbouring some secret worries. What if he doesn't know how to plan a wedding? What if the wedding isn't perfect?</p>
<p>What if Chestopher doesn't realise that Squadrick's feelings are more than just fratonic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Unite In Broly Matrimony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [longwhitecoats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/gifts).



It was in the wild and mist-wrapped mountains of the east, in a labyrinth of twisted caves that slithered and wound their way from barren foot to frosty peak, that the wyrm made its home. The nearby kingdoms built their castles with tall towers and deep dungeons, and stationed guards on their thick stone walls, and kept the emergency services’ contact details within easy reach, but still the wyrm came, in fire and storm, and no monarch, be they ever so rich or powerful, lived within sight of those dark ranges that did not fear it. It was said that the roar of the wyrm could always be heard echoing in the caverns, and that any traveller foolish enough to set foot inside that maze would find themselves trapped there until they had given all of value that they carried.

  
So it was on a day in the spring of the Year of the Grinning Wolf, with the fog high and blinding and the clouds low and cold, when a terrible sound of scales scraping against rock was heard throughout the mountains, the sound of a great beast racing through the tunnels. It echoed down to the kingdoms below, and the people locked their doors and trusted in wood and iron and pearl to hide them from the wyrm’s rage, for while there were often terrible nights when the wyrm was not alone, it was not like to take kindly to any sudden invader.

  
In the depths of the caverns the invading monster slid to a halt with a screech of talon and claw on stone. Its pale hide was scratched and torn from its rush through the jagged passageways, and steam and smoke poured from its wounds. It looked upon the wyrm, which lay ash-grey and smoldering on a bed of gold and swords, and in a voice like the scream of rusted metal it said,

  
“Bro, wake up, we need to plan our _bredding_.”

  
Chestopher sighed. “I’ve told you not to call it that, bro, it sounds like someone’s gonna coat us in crumbs and eat us.” He roused himself, scattering coin and steel to the walls as he shook away the treasure that had been caught in his scales.

  
“I could eat you up right now,” Squadrick said, with an exaggerated wink of one fiery, gleaming eye.

  
“That’s cannibalism, bro, and it’s illegal,” Chestopher said.  “Don’t make me call the police.” He gave Squadrick a fistbump in greeting.

  
Squadrick laughed, a sound like the honk of some enormous metal goose. “I should be the one calling the police, bro,” he said. There was the heavy, ominous pause that always preceded his worst puns. “Because you’ve stolen my heart.”

  
“And you stole that line, bro, so I think you’ll still be the one in trouble.” Chestopher slid past Squadrick out through the doorway, the actual door itself having been lost tragically in the Squadrick Incursion of the Year of the Fascinating Butterfly.

  
A dramatic sigh from Squadrick sent the smoke around their ankles swirling like snakes. “Maybe I’ll just call the fire department instead.” Another pause lay heavy on the air. “Because you’re so hot, bro.”

  
“Bro, are you even trying right now?” Chestopher said, as he led Squadrick into his study. By the faint glow of his eyes, he found several mismatched candles, and he lit them with a single puff of flame. When he had them arranged to his satisfaction, he pushed some of his scrapbooking equipment to the side, took up a pen and paper, and looked at Squadrick expectantly.

  
Squadrick flung himself upon the floor in a manner most dramatic and fanciful, the impact causing the books and trinkets on the shelves to tremble dangerously. “I guess you’re gonna make me call the ambulance, then, if you’re gonna criticise the puns which I have worked so hard on for you. ’Cos, bro… you’re cutting me deep right now.”

  
Despite his best efforts, Chestopher’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “That’s a new one, bro, and I am proud of you,” he said. He put on his reading glasses, the frames clacking against his scales. “So, what’s the first thing we’re gonna decide on?”

  
“Oh, easy, bro,” said Squadrick. “Clearly the first thing we gotta do is…” He trailed off. “Bro. Bro, I don’t know what we gotta do first.” He drummed his claws on the floor, the sound echoing around the room. “Everything is so important and we gotta get it just right, bro. Oh, we are in trouble. We are in such a _pickle_.”

  
“Nah, bro,” said Chestopher, patting Squadrick gently on the head with the tip his tail. “We’re gonna be fine, bro. Let’s start with a simple one. Who are we gonna invite to our celebration of our bro-lationship?”

  
“Dude, I have no clue,” Squadrick said. “The most important thing is that you’re there with me, bro.”

  
“Bro, like, same, but we have to invite people, or what’s the point?” Chestopher asked. He wrote _GUEST LIST FOR OUR TOTALLY BROMANTIC WEDDING_ in careful letters at the top of the page, and, after a moment’s consideration, drew a heart wearing cool sunglasses beside it. The ink gleamed in the the flickering light cast by candle and dragon-eye.

  
Without rising from his place coiled low on the floor, Squadrick reached one lizardly claw upwards and fumbled around in the pile of scrapbooking supplies Chestopher had pushed aside until he caught hold of a piece of parchment. It was a brilliant red patterned with gold. “What about all the princesses you kidnapped?” he said, as he examined the parchment carefully. “I see all the letters you get from them, bro. We should ask them to come!”

  
Chestopher scratched one of his horns thoughtfully. “Sick idea, bro, but where would we have the ceremony?” he asked. “Gotta be somewhere that can fit dragons and humans and still look good in photos.”

  
With a very slow and deliberate grin, baring his fangs, Squadrick said, “Don’t you mean… cere- _bro_ -ny?”

  
“No, bro, I most certainly do not,” Chestopher said, but Squadrick only laughed. “I guess we could borrow a field from someone. A big field filled with, like, wildflowers and shit? I know Persimmon had one in a field so I could come, and the photos from that turned out great, I’ve got them in a scrapbook somewhere. Oh, dude, we need to invite Persimmon. You remember Princess Persimmon? She’s been married, like, six times. I don’t think it even counts as a wedding any more if she isn’t there. Bro, I’m writing her down, she’s on the list.”

  
Squadrick’s laughter trailed off thoughtfully. “We should ask her where she gets her decorations,” he said. “And who she gets to do the cake. Bro, we need a big-ass cake and it has to be the biggest, assest cake in the whole world.”

  
“Cake preferences noted,” Chestopher said, noting “big-ass cake” down on another sheet of paper and taking care to put the hyphen in its correct place this time. He didn’t want a repeat of last Palentine’s Day, which had been even more of a disaster than the first one had been.

  
Squadrick let out a long breath, sending more smoke swirling around the room. “We are gonna need the best caterer in the kingdom, bro. Maybe in, like, all of the kingdoms. Bro, there is so much shit we need to get right for this to be the perfect wedding.”

  
“Bro,” said Chestopher, very seriously, “the only thing this wedding needs to be perfect is us.”

  
“ _Bro_.”

* * *

  
They spent almost an hour in companionable silence broken only by the scratching of Chestopher’s pen and, at first, the rustle of Squadrick’s sheet of paper. Every so often Squadrick would send a smoke ring floating towards the ceiling, and Chestopher would get distracted trying to send another looping through it, and a rousing game of Send The Smoke Ring Through The Other Smoke Ring would follow until Chestopher remembered they were supposed to be working. The list of potential guests grew steadily longer, as Chestopher went through the long list of princesses (and occasionally princes) he had kidnapped and befriended, often but not always in that order. He realised that he’d attended quite a few weddings for people he’d kidnapped, although to be fair most of them had been Persimmon’s.

  
“Bro,” said Squadrick, jolting Chestopher out of happy reminiscence. “Sweet bro, I have a pre-wedding present for you.”

  
Chestopher turned around to see Squadrick holding up a heart made out of folded parchment. He took it delicately between its claws and examined it, watching the gold patterning glimmer in the light as he turned it backwards and forwards.

  
“It’s bro-rigami,” said Squadrick, a faint blush tinging his white scales pink and causing his face to glow softly in the half-light of the candles.

  
With a delighted grin, Chestopher put the heart carefully down on a clean part of his desk, positioning it so that it was proudly on display. “Oh, this is so going in this year’s buddy scrapbook, bro,” he said. “I am gonna treasure the shit out of this.”

  
“Aw, bro,” Squadrick said, ducking his head. “I’m gonna treasure the shit out of you, bro, for the rest of my life. And I’m a dragon, dude, so when I say I’m gonna treasure something, I mean it. You are going in my hoard.” He paused, and Chestopher began to ready himself for the incoming pun before he noticed the expression on Squadrick’s face.

  
“What is it, bro?” Chestopher asked.

  
Squadrick looked away. “Bro, it’s just…” He sighed. “I have something important to tell you, bro. And I don’t want it to ruin our beautiful bromance, but it’s just so important, bro. So important.”

  
The lights in Squadrick’s eyes were dimming, and Chestopher knew that it was serious. “Bro, you know you can tell me anything,” he said. He laid his paw over Squadrick’s. “I will be here for you, bro.”

  
“The thing is, bro,” Squadrick said, and stopped. He swallowed, and wiped at the scales on his forehead as if to polish them. “The thing is, bro, I love you.”

  
Chestopher blinked. “Bro, I love you too. That’s why we’re doing this.”

  
“No, I mean I love you,” Squadrick said. He took a deep breath, then took Chestopher’s paw and looked him directly in the eyes. “No bromo.”

  
A silence stretched out between them.

  
“No… no bromo?” Chestopher asked weakly. “Like, at all?”

  
Squadrick groaned and shook his head. “No, that’s not right, I fucked that up,” he said. “You’re my bro, bro. Full bromo. But also, like… full romo? And I gotta make that romo clear, bro, because I want you to really understand my broposal.”

  
“You wanna talk about your broposal?” Chestopher asked, his voice soft. He held up one paw, where a diamond ring glittered on a single talon. “Do you know why this was my favourite diamond, bro?”

  
Squadrick shook his head slowly. “I have not the slightest of ideas.”

  
“Because it is a paragon, my dude.” Chestopher pulled a heavy, leather-bound tome down from the shelf over his desk, and began to page through it. “That means, bro, that it is absolutely flawless, and also that it is one hundred carats of pure diamond excellence. Take a look at this, bro.” He pointed to a paragraph that he’d underlined years ago. “This very diamond, bro, has an entry in _Maxithrillian Beefington-Scalebright’s Sick-Ass Gemstone Catalogue (Both The Gemstones And The Catalogue Are Sick-Ass)_. It is a world-famous diamond and I am wearing it on my claw right now.”

  
“That is absolutely the hypest shit, bro,” Squadrick said. The sparkle of the diamond was reflected in his eyes as he looked at it. “No wonder it is your most favourite of your diamonds.”

  
A dismissive wave of Chestopher’s paw send rainbows scattering all over the room as the diamond caught the candlelight. “I said that was why it _was_ my favourite diamond, bro,” Chestopher said. “Do you know why it’s my favourite diamond _now_?”

  
Squadrick was silent for a moment, then lifted his paw and opened his mouth. “Is it because,” he said, grinning slowly, “you feel like it understands you, bro?”

  
There was a moment of silence as Chestopher attempted to prepare himself. He had hoped that a conversation this serious would be a pun-free experience, but he had underestimated Squadrick’s commitment to the art.

  
“Why would I feel like it understands me?” he asked finally.

  
“Because,” said Squadrick, grinning widely enough that every last one of his teeth was showing, “what with the preparations for the wedding, you, my bro, have lately been… _under a lot of pressure_?”

  
Chestopher just looked at him without saying a word.

  
“Because of how diamonds are made, bro,” Squadrick said helpfully. “By squishing coal real hard. Not that I think you are coal, bro. You are already a diamond to me. So, like, this pressure will make you an ultra diamond. Metaphorically, bro.”

  
“The reason this is my favourite diamond now,” Chestopher said, doing his best not to give Squadrick the satisfaction of a reaction, “the real reason… is because it is in the ring you gave me, bro.”

  
Squadrick raised a paw to his mouth, his eyes now gleaming brightly again, so bright they could have outshone a bonfire. “Bro,” he said, his voice trembling, “are you for real right now?”

  
“Bro,” said Chestopher, “this is the realest I have ever been in my life, bro. I treasure our bromance, but I also treasure… our romance.”

  
“ _Bro_.”

  
“Bro,” Chestopher said, nodding.

  
Squadrick blinked rapidly, tears appearing momentarily before the fires of his eyes turned them to steam. “I don’t want to wait months and months for our wedding now,” he said hoarsely. “What I want…” He paused.

  
It took Chestopher a moment to realise what was about to happen, but then he shook his head, and also his tail-tip for good measure. “Bro. Don’t do this to me right now.”

  
“What I really, really want…”

  
“Squadrick, no. Bro. Bro, no. Squadrick.”

  
“… is for us to get married, right now, if you know what I mean,” Squadrick continued. “I mean I want us…”

  
“ _Bron’t you dare_ , Squadrick.”

  
“…to e- _bro_ -pe.”

  
“ _Bro_.”

* * *

  
It was in the wild and mist-wrapped mountains of the east, in a labyrinth of twisted caves that slithered and wound their way from barren foot to frosty peak, that the wyrms made their home. The nearby kingdoms built their castles with tall towers and deep dungeons, and stationed guards on their thick stone walls, and kept the emergency services’ contact details within easy reach, but still the wyrms came, in fire and storm, and no monarch, be they ever so rich or powerful, lived within sight of those dark ranges that did not fear them. It was said that the laughter of the wyrms could always be heard in the caverns, and that any traveller foolish enough to set foot inside that maze would find themselves trapped there until they had looked through, like, _every single scrapbook_.


End file.
